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Archer spent the next few days lazing about his apartment, flicking through the channels and resting up like the doctor wanted him to. He paused his channel surfing when a breaking report came on the news

This is Citadel News Net with breaking news. Alliance Officer, Commander Shepard, has been granted the honour of being the first human to be inducted into the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch of the Citadel Council…

“Well shit, how about that.” Archer said from his sprawled position on the couch. “I guess that Spectre they accused really did attack Eden Prime.”

A beeping drew his attention away from the TV as he looked towards the door and saw a light flashing on the door’s controls, meaning someone was waiting at the door.

“I swear to God, if that’s another fucking recruiter,” Archer groaned, slumping further into his couch before slowly dragging himself off and walking to the door. He opened the door, and exclaimed, “Oh, what are you doing here?”

It was Vask, standing with his arms crossed. “You need a gun.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.” Vask said, pushing Archer out of the way and letting himself into the apartment. “You shouldn’t only rely on your biotics.”

Archer threw his hands up in exasperation at the intruding krogan and closed the door. “They seemed to have worked just fine. Got rid of all the turians.”

“I got rid of all the turians.” Vask said pointing at himself, “You passed out after getting the third off you and he would’ve just got up afterwards and shot you if it wasn’t for me. Also, if he didn’t kill you, that last use of your biotics would have from dehydration.”

He turned away from Archer, helping himself to a bowl of alien fruit from the human’s kitchenette before immediately spitting it out.

“They’re fake,” Archer said, hiding a smile.

“Why do you keep a bowl of fake food?” Vask asked, tossing the fake fruit in annoyance.

“I wanted some decorations.” Archer said, the smile starting to crack through.

Vask growled before storming over to Archer, grabbing his arm and pulling the human over to the door, “You’re coming with me to the gun range.”

“Like hell I am,” Archer shouted, ineffectually punching the krogan’s arm as he was dragged behind him.

Vask stopped at the door and turned to face the human, still holding his arm. “Look, you need to learn to rely on more than just your biotics.”

“Why do you care so much about my safety?” Archer asked, trying to look Vask in the eyes but the krogan refused to keep eye contact.

Vask opened the door and pushed the human through, making him stumble. Vask growled, “Just get moving.”

“Fine, fine. You overgrown lizard,” Archer grumbled, brushing himself off. “If you asked me. I’d-“

“I didn’t”

Archer continued, reaching behind Vask to lock his door. “I’D SAY that you were just looking for an excuse to spend time with me but you were never taught to ask nicely.”

Vask growled but said nothing, pushing the human down the hall and into the streets only stopping when they reached a CRT terminal. They stood in front of the taxi, Vask looking down at Archer until the human groaned and got into the car. Vask quickly followed, forcing Archer to press into the opposite door of the car.

Archer looked at the window as the buildings started to fly by as the taxi lifted off and flew away, thinking to himself about the green krogan. He must’ve been pretty lonely to badger a human he’d only met a few days ago into spending time with him. He probably didn’t consider any of the other mercenaries he associated with as friends. And he certainly wouldn’t be making friends by shooting those that rip him off.

He rubbed his scar, he heard krogans like boasting about their scars and Vask seemed to like learning about his own. He looked over at Vask, eyeing the large crack in his dark green headplate, and the furrowed scar trailing down over his lighter green eye.

“How’d you get yours? The scar over your eye, and the crack?” asked Archer.

“Klixen.”

“That tells me nothing,” Archer said, frustrated that the Krogan didn’t elaborate after he pressed him for information about his own. He hadn’t even heard about a klixen before.

“It’s an animal from the Krogan homeworld of Tuchanka,” Vask answered, seemingly unwillingly, “I fought a dozen of them in my Rite to become a full member of Clan Weyrloc.”

“They must be a pretty horrible animal to leave a cool looking scar like that,” Archer said, which made the krogan perk up, shuffling slightly in the car seat. Archer continued, “What’s Tuchanka like?”

“It’s a sun blasted desert where everything that moves or doesn’t move, wants to kill you. Venom, tooth, claw, you name it and there’s a creature there that has them and wants you to know it.”

“Sounds like Australia,” Archer commented.

“That another human colony?” Vask asked, intrigued.

“No, it’s a country on Earth, the human homeworld,” answered Archer.

“That where your family come from before they moved to Terra?” Vask asked, leaning in excited to learn more of this country.

“Terra Nova, and no, my family came from England. A country on the other side of the planet.” Archer answered, remembering the stories his mother and father would tell him about it and smiling.

“Is it dangerous there too?”

“No,” Archer laughed, “Unless you’re allergic to water and clouds. From what I was told, the weather was pretty dreary.”

“Told? You’ve never been to your species' homeworld?” Vask asked.

“No, but I’d like to someday. See where my parents grew up, and visit my grandparents. They live in London, the capital of England. I’ve seen the pictures and vids. The city’s beautiful.”

“I wish I could say the same for Tuchanka,” replied Vask, “It’s nothing but a barren, fallout ridden desert.”

Archer lightly slapped Vask’s shoulder, “Oh, come on. I’m sure there’s plenty of beautiful places there. You just have to look for them.”

“Then I’ve never found them.” Vask muttered, “I’ve only seen desert and blasted out ruins.”

Archer went to reply but thought better of it. He was sure there were places and that Vask just hadn't appreciated them or thought of them yet. He looked back out the window, noticing the buildings were passing by slower than they were before.

“I’m guessing we’re close.” said Archer.

Vask leaned over to look out the window, pressing Archer against the glass. “Yeah, we’re coming up on it now. It’s a good range, hard to get weapons and they don’t ask questions.”

“Well, that’s comforting,” said from his position against the glass as the taxi landed.

“Good,” Vask said, oblivious to the human’s sarcasm, “You shouldn’t get nervous when shooting guns. It’s a good way of shooting yourself or someone on your team.”

Vask opened the door, letting Archer climb out before following him out. Archer stood aside for Vask as the taxi lifted off towards its next customer and looked over the outside of the gun range.

“This place looks horrible,” Archer said about the dingy looking entrance with a sign of cheap neon hanging by its door saying ‘Guns and Mods’.

“What did you expect?” Vask asked, pushing Archer at his lower back to get him moving, “The shiny white walls, and holographic projections of the Presidium?”

“I wouldn’t feel like I’d get robbed in the Presidium if I turned away.”

Vask let out a large guffaw, “You don’t know shit about the Presidium then. They’d bleed you dry with the prices they charge.”

“So this place is cheap then?”

“It’s a happy in-between,” Vask said, “You shouldn’t cheap out when it comes to your weapons and mods. Doing that can cost you your life.”

“Wasn’t that what you were doing a few days ago?” Archer asked, pausing the gun range’s door.

“No, I was trying to get a shotgun mod that instead of shaving off and firing the normal uniform slivers of tungsten, it shaves off ragged slivers that will shred your insides.” Vask explained, opening the door and pushing Archer through.

“That doesn’t sound legal,” Archer said, waving at the human shopkeeper who just glowered at him. Archer lowered his hand and said to himself, “Such a friendly place here.”

“Obviously it wasn’t legal. I wouldn’t have been in the alley otherwise. You can only find it in the Terminus Systems.” Vask said to Archer and walking up to the shopkeeper, laid down his credit chit and told him, “I need to rent an Armax Arsenal Crossfire, a Batarian State Arms Executioner, and Elanus Risk Control Striker.”

“We only have Crossfire I, II and IV, and a Striker I and II. No BSAs.” Said the shopkeeper.

“I’ll take the Crossfire II, and Striker I,” Vask said. “You had Batarian weapons last week.”

“They were either sold or seized by C-Sec.” said the shopkeeper, charging Vask’s chit.

“Seized?” asked Archer.

The shopkeeper turned to look at Archer, “You need to let some stuff fall through the cracks. Otherwise, C-Sec will get suspicious and start looking harder for your better stock.”

“Do you at least have the shotgun mod I’m looking for?” asked Vask, taking his chit back.

The shopkeeper looked back to Vask, “I’ll have to order that through multiple back channels and pay off a few dockworkers. It’ll take at least a couple weeks. I’ll let you know when it comes in.”

“Good,” Vask said, “Don’t sell it to anyone else.”

“It’s hot merchandise. I need to offload it as fast as I can.” said the shopkeeper, “If you’re not here for it, that’s on you.”

Archer stood watching the conversation in disbelief. The pair were just openly talking about illegal activities with no mind to him being there. The shopkeeper must have trusted Vask enough not to bring someone who would report him to C-Sec. Archer also guessed that he himself owed the krogan for saving his life and decided to keep his mouth shut on the matter. He followed Vask to a backroom that had a long hall with walled off desks on one end and humanoid targets hanging from the ceiling on the other.

“Paper targets?” asked Archer.

“This isn’t the Armax Arsenal Arena,” scoffed Vask, “Holographic target projectors are expensive.”

A beep came for the wall adjacent to the desks and a slot opened up, with a desk sliding out with two guns on them.

“Pick one,” Vask said.

“What?” Archer asked, confused.

“Pick a gun,” Vask said, annoyed, “I didn’t drag you here for you to watch ME fire guns. Now pick one so I can see how much of a horrible shot you are.”

Archer scowled and pushed past Vask and looked at the guns. He knew nothing about guns and couldn’t tell anything about them. Just that one was much larger than the other, looked heavy and would require both hands. He felt the need to prove the krogan wrong about him being a bad shot, despite having never even touched a gun before.

He grabbed the large gun, fumbling with it slightly, getting a snicker from the krogan behind him, and he turned to face him.

Vask immediately grabbed the gun and pointed it towards the targets and away from him, growling, “Don’t point a gun at someone unless you plan to shoot them.”

“You could’ve told me that beforehand,” Archer said, looking down at the large gun. Seeing a scope, he craned his neck down to look through it. He heard a groan from behind him but paid it no mind until he felt Vask press up behind him and reach around.

“Finger off the trigger until you’re ready to fire,” he said, pulling Archer’s finger away and placing it extended near the trigger. He put his hand under the gun and pulled it up higher until the butt of the gun was in front of his shoulder, “And you’re meant to shoulder it. Have the stock of the rifle against your shoulder. It keeps it stable and lets you see into the scope better.”

Archer nodded, putting his eye against the scope before Vask pulled his head back. Vask added, “Don’t put your eye right against the scope unless you want to break your eye socket.”

Archer nodded again, looking down the scope and kept his head the distance Vask pulled him to. He paused, still feeling the larger krogan up against him. Even feeling his breath on the top of his head. He looked around and up at Vask, making sure to keep the gun pointed away.

Vask looked down at him for a moment before clearing his throat and quickly moving away from Archer, refusing to look him in the eye. He stammered, “Now shoot the target.”

Archer smiled, his face burning from a blush that quickly appeared as he finally put two and two together. So that was why he was dragged to the gun range, the krogan seemed to have taken a liking to him. As to why that was, Archer didn’t know but he couldn’t help but feel flattered. He looked towards the target, looking down the scope, thinking more about his situation as he lined the sights up with the paper target in front of him. He didn’t see himself getting with an alien, but there weren’t many humans in his section of the Citadel, and even fewer that swung his way. He shrugged before deciding to see how it would play out. He put his finger on the trigger and pulled.

He screamed out in pain as the gun kicked back into his shoulder and scar. He dropped the gun and fell to the floor, clutching his shoulder and scar.

“Careful!” Vask said, picking up the gun and setting it back onto the desk, “Don’t drop the gun. I don’t want to have to buy it.”

“Oh, I’m fine!” gasped Archer, slowly picking himself up, rubbing his neck as the burning pain started moving outwards, “Thanks for asking.”

“Quit your whining. The pain will eventually go away,” Vask said, grabbing the smaller gun and handing it to Archer, “I’ll be lucky to be let back here if you broke any of the guns. Especially something as hard for humans to get as Armax Arsenal.”

Archer sneered and snatched the gun from Vask’s outstretched hand. He turned around and aimed at the target. He groaned in annoyance when he saw the unblemished target. He didn’t even hit it with the other gun. He put his finger on the trigger again and was about to fire when he felt Vask press against him again, grabbing his arms this time.

“Relax your arms,” he said softly, “Or the recoil will go straight to your scar again. And focus on the front sight.”

Vask stayed behind Archer as he aimed the gun. The smaller human tried to hold on to his frustration with the krogan but couldn’t help but feel the blush return. He wanted to get back at the krogan in some way and decided to bump his rear into Vask to get a reaction out of him.

Vask immediately moved back and turned away from Archer, and fiddled with the larger gun he put back on the desk. Occasionally looking back at Archer before quickly turning back to the gun.

Archer looked back at Vask with a smirk until he saw Vask’s weird behaviour. He looked back towards the target feeling a stab of guilt. It looked like the krogan was still in the closet and didn’t know what to do with Archer’s reciprocated advances. He aimed down the sights and fired, hitting the target dead centre.

Archer let out a laugh of triumph, and looked down the sights again and fired three more times. Missing all three shots. Vask started laughing, making Archer look back and snap, “Oh, shut up.”

He turned back and fired another three rounds, this time hitting the target. But not as accurately as the first time. Two hitting the target’s left shoulder and the other its neck.

“Seems I just need to get you angry in order for you to hit your target,” Vask said, still chuckling. “I can work with that.”

“Can you now?” Archer said, looking back at Vask with a smile.

Vask cleared his throat and took the gun from Archer and placed it back on the desk with the larger gun. He pushed the desk back into the wall and said, “I think that’s it for today.”

“Oh,” Archer said, dejected. He must’ve pushed too hard when Vask wasn’t ready. He guessed that it would probably be best to let the closeted krogan make the first moves from that point on.

“So, what next?” Archer asked.

“Taking you back to the front counter to see if you want to buy any of the guns,” Vask said, pointing back towards the door they came in through, “I’d recommend you get the Striker.”

“The what?” Archer asked, clueless on what the name meant.

Vask rolled his eyes, “The pistol you just fired.”

He pointed back to the wall, “The rifle you tried shooting was a Crossfire II. The exact same model from the other day and what you got shot with.”

“Why the hell would you have me fire that?” Archer asked, remembering the gun being pointed at him.

“Because, say what you want about them, Turians make good guns,” Vask said, crossing his arms, “The Crossfire just happens to be a popular rifle for Turians.”

Vask continued, “I wanted to show a good range of quality guns. Armax are high quality but hard to get a hold of if you’re not turian, Batarian State Arms are brutal but really effective guns, and Elanus are good guns if you want quality but at a more affordable price.”

“I’ll take the cheap one,” Archer said, his arms crossed and still annoyed at being given the same gun he was shot with.

“Like I said, the Striker is the one you want,” Vask said.

He put a hand on Archer’s back and softly pushed him forward towards the door. Archer couldn’t help but smile a bit, despite still being annoyed at the Krogan.

***

The taxi touched down in front of Archer’s apartment and Archer climbed out, holding the case that contained his new Striker pistol. He turned back to the taxi and bent down to look into the car where Vask sat.

“Thanks,” Archer said, scratching the back of his neck nervously, “I wouldn’t be opposed to doing this again. It was fun. Despite my scar acting up again.”

Vask gave a wordless nod, and Archer closed the door, waved the taxi goodbye and went back into his apartment. He set the gun case on the bench of his kitchenette and wondered where he would keep the gun, looking around the apartment for a place before he saw a piece of fake fruit on the ground. He picked it up, looking at the large chunk bitten out of it before putting back in the bowl with the rest of the decorative fruit with a smile.